The Right Words
by PrettyInPink16
Summary: STORY TAKES PLACE IN INKSPELL. This story takes place right after Dustfinger dies and Meggie asks Fenoglio to write him back. In my opinion, this is what Fenoglio should have written. This is my first story so please comment.


Fenoglio had to free Dustfinger. He just had to. There was no other option. Inkspell without Dustfinger was like a fire elf without a hive or a nymph without a pool of water. It just was not right. 

"I know I said I was through writing," Fenoglio thought to himself. "But it just would not feel right if I wrote Orpheus in and not Dustfinger. And," he continued, "I wouldn't be able to write him in if I wanted to. I barely know a thing about him and he does not belong. Neither," he reminded himself, "does the boy. But he must stay."

So Fenoglio began to write. At first, the story seems to slip from his fingers before he could hold on to it. But after those few dry sentences, the words seemed to pour from him like a waterfall.

"This is just right," thought Fenoglio. "And this time," he added grimly, "it will turn out right. This time my character won't die. And this time he will be the real character, not a cheap imitation like last time."

Fenoglio finished his work and reread it by the dim light of his candle. Yes, nodded Fenoglio. Yes.

He let out a laugh and smiled. "This is perfect! This is perfect!" he yelled excitedly.

Meggie, who was in the hall waiting impatiently rushed inside the room. "Did you finish the story about Orpheus?" she asked anxiously.

Fenoglio observed her. She was pale, almost white, and she had a pleading look in her eyes that made him feel horrible about not agreeing to write Dustfinger back in the first place.

"No," he shook his head. "No."

"Whhaa whhaa what daaadoo ya ya you ma mah mean?" she could barely get the words out. They just tumbled out of her lips like marbled from a dish. They just clattered around and scarcely made sense. Nothing like when she read. No. Nothing beautiful like that.

"What I mean," stated Fenoglio. "Is that I wrote nothing about Orpheus because he does not belong in my story. However," he added slyly, "I did write something, and it should be able to bring Dustfinger back. Just as long as you are willing to read it."

"Really bring him back Fenoglio? Bring him back from the dead?" replied Meggie with her eyes on the floor.

That's not like her to avoid my gaze. She must really not like the idea, thought Fenoglio. "Well," he said, "uh Dustfinger, he... uh." Now Fenoglio couldn't get his words out.

"Just read it to yourself," he decided to reply. "Then see if you want to read it aloud."

She did. And she loved it.

"It's the perfect solution!" she exclaimed. "Of course I'll read it! Of course!"

Meggie began to read. The words formed perfectly on her lips and flowed beautifully. Just as lovely a reader as her father, thought Fenoglio as he listened to her read the words he wrote:

_Dustfinger felt light and airy. Like he had no body, only a soul. Then he realized he was only a soul. A soul with a silvery scar, he thought. But wait. The boy. Farid. Where was he? He looked around himself. There. There he was. The girl had him in her arms._

_Then he felt hands on his shoulders, his chest, his back, his arms. Cool hands. White hands. Hands that were going to take him with them._

_He turned around and saw the radiant White Women. They pulled back and beckoned to him. He followed. There is no use resisting now, he thought, I'm dead. I chose to die when I called the White Women here to take me._

_In the distance a castle appeared. It was a stunning sight with tall towers hundreds of feet high, monstrous windows, huge oak doors, and a moat full of nymphs and other dead water creatures._

_The most brilliant thing of all though was the white material with which the castle was made. Gleaming with it own light it seemed to be made of ice. Only when Dustfinger got closer he realize it was made of bones._

_Then he saw all of the souls._

_"No!" he shouted. "NO! NO! I can't live here! Never! I never wanted to live here! Not of my own will! Not of my own choice! NO!" Dustfinger thought to himself, I can never live with all of these dead souls, I would not be able stand it. All of the people in front of me have died. I cannot face those horrible deaths. Never._

_The White Women just looked at him and shook their heads, then turned around and walked away. He couldn't go back. Never. Yes I can, he thought, yes I can. I promised Roxanne. I promised._

_Then he remembered a long lost trick. It was a hard one, but it was the best one that he had. It might be able to bring him back. But only if he played his cards right._

_"Hey! Hey, White Women! Hey! Wait up!" he shouted as the White Women drifted towards the castle. Then they stopped, turned around, and looked at Dustfinger. He caught up to them._

_"Everlasting fire," he spit out breathlessly. "Everlasting fire." They looked at him curiously. And motioned for him to show them._

_Then he concentrated. Fire was easy. But to make it everlasting? Not so much. It was one of his tricks. He figured it out himself. But he had only done a dozen or so times._

_Dustfinger made fire in two seconds flat, probably less. Then he concentrated. One minute. Two minutes. Three minutes. Ten minutes. Fifteen minutes. Twenty minutes. Thirty minutes. Forty minutes. Fifty minutes. Sixty minutes. Seventy minutes. Eighty Minutes. Ninety minutes. At 97 minutes there was an explosion, and the fired turned to ashes and started smoking violently._

_The White Women, who had been waiting patiently for their everlasting fire, jumped back and got out of the way of the smoke._

_But Dustfinger smiled. This is it, he thought. This is my chance out of here. My ticket to freedom. The ashes burst into flames and danced in Dustfingers's hands. The White Women were delighted. But they motioned for more._

_"More?" said Dustfinger, and they nodded. He looked at the castle and got an idea. "Is that castle hollow?" he asked, and they nodded again._

_Dustfinger grinned and moved toward the castle. He placed the fire aside and started to dig a hole, not deep, just a foot and a half or so. Then he broke a hole in the wall. Not the inside wall, only the outside one._

_He then placed the fire inside and put the dirt back in place. Dustfinger placed his hands on the wall and concentrated again. Now that the fire was made, making it grow and dance was easy. As was commanding it. The fire started moving up the inside of the wall. It grew and grew until the entire middle of the wall was fire._

_Dustfinger went back to the White Women. "The fire is inside the walls," he told them. "It is everlasting and needs nothing to stay alive, not wood and not bones. It will never burn your castle down unless," he said, "I tell it to. And I willl if you do not let me live again. Return me to my body. I want to see Resa, Meggie, the Barn Owl, my daughter, Silvertongue even. But most of all, I want to see Roxanne and Farid. Return me to them and the fire will dance for you for all eternity, never stopping, always burning, and never leaving the walls of its new home. But if I do not return to my body and my home, then I will have the fire burn the walls of your castle and burn you."_

_The White Women looked excited, afraid, anxious. Dustfinger knew that the White Women loved fire, but they were frightened of it, too. The White Women looked at other and their eyes sparkled. Then they turned in unison and waved their arms in the air._

_The last thing Dustfinger saw before he was lifted off of his feet and blacked out were the sparkling eyes of the White Women. When he awoke, he saw Roxanne crying on his lap, unaware that he had returned happy, healthy, and most importantly, alive._

Meggie read the last word then licked her lips. She sighed. That was a lot of reading to do and so far there has been no effect.

Just then, they heard Roxanne scream.

"He's alive!" they heard her shout. "He's alive!"

Farid came rushing in to greet Meggie, his eyes full of happy tears. "He's back Meggie! Dustfinger is back!" Farid shouted before pulling her forward to kiss her.

When she was released, Meggie turned towards Fenoglio. "Thank you. Thank you," she whispered before turning to run down the hall with the boy.


End file.
